The Artful Blogger

By Victoria Halsey

Zoe Wood thinks she has it all. A promising job as a graphic artist, no-strings attached fun, and blog readers who live vicariously when she shares her adventures. Life is good. Then a few reckless choices change it all. Reality and the internet intertwine and then intersect when her blog and its readers begin to affect her life. With the help of her two closest friends, a hot bartender, and her blog readers, Zoe figures out what’s real and what’s important. She learns that by rejecting those close to her she misses out on life, and that some things are worth the risk. Sometimes you have to go back to the beginning to be able to move forward.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Victoria Halsey
• Release date: Oct 31, 2013
• ISBN: 9781310088384

Victoria Halsey

Victoria began writing in 1998 and was an RWA Golden Heart finalist with her first book, a paranormal romance. Since then she's writtenAn Atlanta, Georgia native, Victoria lives in Indianapolis with her husband, Jim. She has four children, two by birth and two by marriage with Jim. She enjoys trail running and brewing her own beer.

Book preview

Acknowledgements

Thank you to the fathers in my life and the support they have given to me, my children, and my step-children: Henry, Jim, Rick, and Don.

Thank you to my critique partners Garthia Anderson, Brenda Hiatt Barber, Susan Crandall, Sherry Crane, Pam Jones, and Alicia Rasley. Your friendships and opinions are equally valuable.

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Acknowledgements

About the author

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Blog Entry: Thursday, December 13

If Life Was Like a Word Document

Wouldn’t it be great if life worked like spell-check? All your mistakes would be highlighted so you could undo them before moving on.

Highlight, delete. Done. Mistake avoided.

When I spotted Cling Man at the office Christmas party last week, he should have had squiggly lines underneath him. I would have known instantly. But no, taking him home seemed like a good idea. He was super-hot and looking for action. Someone I could take home and never worry about again. Who knew he had adhesive properties!

Men need a little space when it comes to women. I learned that at an early age. Women, on the other hand, hate space. They’re the clingy ones, wanting to know when he’s going to call, or where this is going.

This? There is no this!

Men get that. At least 99 percent of men get that. And then there’s Cling Man.

As soon as the deed was done he wanted to know all about me. Courteous curiosity is one thing, but he wanted my life story before I could even put my clothes back on. Baring my soul while naked is just wrong. Still, I answered his questions and even accepted Date #2 in hopes that it would lead back to his bed. It did.

Remember the super hot thing? Yeah, he knew how to work it. But when he called me for Date #3 just ten minutes after I’d gotten home from Date #2, I knew something had to be done. In my book, three dates is borderline relationship, and I don’t do relationships.

At least not any more.

I was nice. I didn’t end it online or over the phone. No, I drove straight back to his place and told him face to face there would be no date number three. I figured I owed him that much, especially factoring in that he was my boss’s son.

I expected disappointment. Or even harsh words. But nothing in my break up experiences prepared me for tears. His! I was speechless.

This is about the point I was wishing there’d been spell check at the Christmas party. Squiggly lines would have been very nice, and all of this ugliness could have been avoided. Instead I had a grown man asking why this was over.

This? There is no this!

Where is the delete button when you need it?

Posted by Z. 8:02 p.m. 6 comments

Carol V at 8:45 p.m. – Aren’t you worried about Daddy?

Z. at 10:01 p.m. – I stopped worrying about Daddy fourteen years ago.

Carol V. at 10:49 p.m. – Stop being such a smart ass, Z. You know I meant his father.

Z. at 11:08 p.m. – I didn’t break any rules by doing the boss’s son. Plus I’m the best graphic artist he has. It’s all good.

Night Moves at 7:01 a.m. – You’re risky, Z. I like that in a woman. And I bet you’re really good.

Deanne at 8:32 a.m. – That’s why I like this blog so much. I don’t want to learn something or buy something. I just like to be entertained.

* * *

Ms. Wood, I’ve decided to make some changes here at Pinnacle Advertising, said my boss as he leaned back in his leather chair Friday morning.

I shifted uncomfortably in my hard wooden seat. Changes?

The summons from on high had come just minutes after I’d gotten to my desk. Getting called into the boss’s office the morning after dumping his son might not be a good thing. I hadn’t given a thought during the actual dump that there might be any negative repercussions. After all, Mr. Boss had always said our private lives were just that. Up until right now I’d believed him.

I’ve been looking at your latest performance review. Mr. Boss picked up some papers and cleared his throat. We think you may be better suited in another area of Pinnacle.

My stomach tightened. My last performance review had been stellar, and I was finally up for art director. I’d worked hard for the promotion, even going so far as to schmooze with people I usually avoided. Art was my life. How could another area of the company possibly be better suited for me?

Mr. Boss cleared his throat again. Agnes Barber retired last week.

Okay. What did Aggie’s retirement have to do with my career? She’d been in charge of human resources for years. She’d transformed HR into the land of positive people, where they paid you to care about everyone else.

As I’m sure you know, Aggie’s assistant Belinda took over that position, which now leaves Belinda in need of an assistant. My boss looked straight at me. And that’s where you come in.

I frowned, not following his meaning.

Pack up your desk this morning. I want you in HR by noon.

HR? A sick feeling rolled over me. What does that have to do with graphics? Or art director?

Absolutely nothing. He smiled slowly, his lips pulling back to display his wide teeth.

I looked at him, and then I understood. This was my punishment. And it was all Cling Man’s fault. I couldn’t believe Mr. Boss was letting his whining son affect my promotion. I had to do something. Now.

I stood up. I appreciate the offer, but I’m going to pass.

This isn’t an offer. His smile widened. It’s a fact. Belinda is waiting for you.

Panic began to build inside me. If I could just make my boss see the way things really were, I might be able to salvage the promotion.

You’re throwing that out because of something personal between your son and me? I raised my hands, as if to punctuate my words. I’m a good graphic artist, and I’d be a great art director.

He shifted in his seat, making the leather squeak loudly. I never let personal issues dictate business decisions.

Then how did I end up in HR?

Mr. Boss’s smile disappeared. I do not need to explain my decisions to you.

We never even had a relationship. I took a breath, trying to get control of myself and the situation. Even if we had, there’s nothing in the rules against dating the boss’s son.

You’re right. He stood up, his large body overshadowing me. He crossed his arms. But there is something in the rules against insubordination.

I shut my mouth. The unfairness of it all made me want to throw something, preferably at my boss. Thank God I wasn’t the crying type.

You will report to Belinda before noon, he pronounced with ringing finality, his face flushed with victory. Or you will be unemployed.

I turned abruptly and left his office without a word. I’d invested a lot of myself in Pinnacle, and starting over at another company wasn’t an option. Maybe Mr. Boss’s change was temporary. Maybe if I put up with HR for a few days I’d be back in the art department where I belonged. Until the new art director was named, there was still hope this would all blow over and I’d get my promotion.

I started cleaning my desk, but there was little to box up. I wasn’t one to sprinkle mementoes from home around my work space. I needed no reminders of my dysfunctional family at work. I had enough reminders elsewhere. By nine I was done. By nine-fifteen I was standing in HR.

Belinda Barnes had worked in HR for so long no one remembered when she started. And now, finally, she was the boss. I’d had little interaction with her when she was Aggie’s assistant, so I really didn’t know what to expect.

She gave me a big smile when I walked into her office. I half expected her to walk around her desk and hug me. Was it a job requirement to be the huggy type if you worked in Pinnacle’s HR?

Zoe, I’m so glad you’re here, she said, wiggling like an excited puppy. You’re going to love it in HR. Everybody does.

I set down my box of stuff on her desk with a satisfying thunk then looked up at her beaming face, trying hard to be somewhat positive about the situation. Where do I sit?

She scooted around her desk and trotted across the room to a small desk tucked into a corner. Here, you can have my old desk. She patted it lovingly. I even left a plant.

With a sigh, I grabbed my box off Belinda’s new desk and dropped it beside mine, oddly appreciative of the plant Belinda had left. It looked like a spider plant.

I’ll let you get settled. Once you log onto the network just find the HR folder and read through it. That should get you started. With a last smile in my general direction, Belinda turned and walked back to her own desk.

Thanks. I adjusted the placement of Spidey. If I was going to last an hour in this place I was going to need to find a positive attitude somewhere, but I didn’t know where that might come from. Certainly not from Belinda herself. I found her cheeriness more annoying than contagious.

I turned on the computer, and as it went through its paces I looked around the department. I’d never taken much notice of HR before, since the only time I’d spent in here was to file paperwork or to solve an insurance issue. And interview for art director. I had a vague idea of what human resources meant, and I hoped that was enough to fake my way through the day.

I spent the rest of the morning reading through electronic manuals and HR files. Nothing I read looked even slightly interesting. Quite obviously Belinda found HR fascinating. She’d spent the morning busily working through paperwork, all the while humming some oldies tune under her breath.

Just before lunch the door opened, and an admin from sales walked in. Mary Lou? Mary Ann? I remembered it being a two-name name, but in my mind she’d always been Sniffy. Every time I saw her she looked on the verge of tears. Right now there was no verge about it.

C-c-can I talk to someone? she asked, trying to hold on to the last shred of control. She sniffed, then wiped her red nose.

I stared at my computer, trying hard to be invisible.

Belinda’s chair squeaked, and I knew she was looking at the new arrival. I’d heard she had a soft spot for counseling, and now I would get to see it firsthand. Any moment now Belinda would go to Sniffy, scoop the emotional mess into an embrace and take her back to the conference room.

Good morning, Luanne, said Belinda.

Luanne. So close.

Another sniff. D-do you have a minute?

Belinda sighed. Not at the moment, dearie. But Zoe can talk to you. She’s going to be handling counseling, now that I’ve been promoted.

Sniffy blew her nose and glanced anxiously at me. Really?

I turned from the computer and hissed to Belinda, Really?

She nodded as she stood, then walked over to Sniffy, took her by the shoulder and led her to the chair. Zoe will be right with you.

Belinda approached my desk and motioned me back to the conference room. I never thought I’d be longing for my new desk so soon.

I’m sorry for throwing you in like this, explained Belinda. All Luanne needs is a friendly ear. Listen to her and send her on her way. She’ll be fine.

A cold sweat broke out all over my body. What about me?

Belinda frowned. What do you mean?

I mean, I don’t have a clue how to deal with Sniffy’s emotions.

Sure you do, she said as she patted my hand. All women are good listeners. She stood up. It’ll be easy. You’ll see. I’ll send her on in.

I watched as she walked to the door of the conference room, humming that same oldies tune. She paused and turned back to me with a smile. And try not to call her Sniffy to her face, dearie. That just wouldn’t do.

Voices mumbled in the hall outside the conference room, punctuated by loud sniffs. Thirty seconds later, Luanne appeared in the doorway, her face red and tear-streaked. I tried to give an encouraging smile, but based on the fearful expression on her face, I’m sure it came off as more of a grimace.

Have a seat, I said, pointing at the chair across the table. I didn’t want the weeping woman too close. Boundaries were a good thing.

She slid into the chair next to me. So much for boundaries.

I cleared my throat, hoping the proper words would come to me. When drawing or painting, inspiration always struck me right when I needed it the most. Now, not so much. I had no clue what to say or do to make this better.

Sn—Luanne continued to cry, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue balled up into an almost unrecognizable blob.

Why don’t you, I paused, choosing my words. ...tell me what happened.

Evidently that small encouragement was all she needed. She launched into a wailing monologue about a man. How much she loved him. And how he’d thrown that love down the drain. All I could wonder was what this had to do with Pinnacle.

I nodded appropriately, or so I thought. After about ten minutes she started to slow down. I had her out the door not long after, and was back at my desk in time to leave for lunch.

The rest of the day dragged on. As five o’clock approached I felt nothing but relief. As I walked by Belinda’s desk she looked up.

Zoe, we need to talk.

I swallowed, feeling the rock that had settled in my stomach. I’d tried, honestly I had. I just didn’t have the huggy gene, and no amount of exposure to Belinda was going to change that. Part of me wanted to quit in a blaze of glory and show both Belinda and Mr. Boss just what I thought of their personnel techniques. But the truth was I needed this job. No way could I go crawling back to Macon.

Yes? I sat down at her desk, dreading my second difficult conversation of the day. Third if I counted Sniffy. And I did.

Belinda sighed, looking at me with no pretense. I think we both know you aren’t cut out to work in HR.

I chose my words carefully, afraid the wrong ones could cost me a job. I’ve had more enjoyable afternoons.

A smile flickered across her face. Me, too.

My eyebrows rose in surprise. I was so sure Belinda was in on Mr. Boss’s torture. I took a deep breath. So what happens now?

That’s up to you, my dear. We can keep trying here. Who knows, you might end up fitting in.

No way would I ever fit in this huggy environment. I bit my lip and gave a tight smile. Or?

She sighed. Or…there’s an opening in marketing.

I frowned. I knew nothing about marketing, other than they always needed art, back when I worked in the art department. Would I get to draw?

That would be up to Camille.

Crap, Camille! I shuddered.

Belinda looked at me sharply, clicking her tongue. You can’t do that if you work for Camille. And I think you’d find her a fair supervisor.

I wasn’t so sure about Camille’s objectivity, but I didn’t share my doubts with Belinda. I’d heard wicked stories about Camille, and the thought of witnessing those first hand didn’t make me feel any better. But then, neither did counseling the Sniffys of the world.

Can’t I just go back to the art department? I crossed my arms. How long do I have to pay my penance?

She blinked. I don’t know what you’re talking about.

I couldn’t believe she was really playing dumb. Aggie had been the one who’d interviewed me for the promotion, so Belinda must know, too. Was this all part of my punishment? I took a deep breath, trying hard to stay calm.

I’m talking about the art director position. You know I’m up for that. You probably were doing the paperwork yesterday.

Pity filled her eyes. I’m sorry, Zoe, but Larry Harrison got that job. I gave him the good news while you were in with Luanne.

My breath left me, as if she had physically knocked the air from my lungs. They had promoted Lame-O Larry over me. Larry, who’d tried to sleep with me. Larry, who tried to get me fired when I’d said no. No way could I go back to the art department now. And no way could I stay in HR.

I smiled grimly at Belinda. Looks like it’s marketing after all.

Table of Contents

Chapter 2

Blog Entry: Monday, January 7

Today is the First Day…

…of the rest of my life. Or so they say. Personally, I think it’s just a phrase to make people feel better about changes in their life. Luckily I don’t feel the need for pointless platitudes to get through the day.

I moved into a new place last week. The lease on the old place was up, so it was time for something new. Different. I like fresh starts. Wish I was as excited about my new position at work.

My new boss is a real beotch. She has an ancient side kick who spends so much time sucking up he should have a straw permanently attached to his mouth. Geezer has about five hairs left on the top of his head, and those lone survivors have been grown long and laid carefully across his skull to meet up with the shorter hair rimming his head. Do five hairs really count as a comb over?

Anyway, I should be thankful I’m not stuck in HR, but the gratitude will have to wait. Right now I’m much more interested in surviving the new cast of characters.

Today is the first day of the rest of my life. Some people actually believe that. Me, I know better. I can say those words again tomorrow and they’re still true. I don’t know if that’s good or bad.

Posted by Z. 8:02 p.m. 2 comments

Carol V at 8:45 p.m. – Sounds like doing the boss’s son wasn’t a good idea after all. Any regrets?

Z at 9:02 p.m. – My only regret is my old boss didn’t play by his own rules. I should be his art director. Instead I’m back to square one.

* * *

Tuesday evening I walked in the door of Monahan’s Pub with Jenna, my neighbor across the hall. She’d seemed a bit naive when I’d met her last week, but the girl was growing on me. Anyone who took me to a place like this had to be fun. Maybe Jenna wasn’t as sweet and innocent as she looked, although I still thought of her as Sweetie Pie. It just seemed to fit.

A happy hum filled the bar, and everyone inside seemed to be in a good mood. Why wouldn’t they? Monahan’s was everything an Irish bar should be. Big oak beams, shiny wooden walls, polished brass, and hot bartenders. I felt right at home. And to think it was within walking distance of my new apartment. Even better.

Jenna steered us toward the bar and two open stools. This looks good, she said as we sat down.

I spotted the hottest bartender right away. Tall, lightly muscled, and with a slight shadow of a beard that gave him a roguish appearance. Nice. Very nice. He smiled at me and winked, then walked up to where we sat.

What can I offer you fine lasses this evenin’?

The accent totally did it for me. What woman wasn’t a sucker for a thick Irish brogue? My legs felt like jelly, and I barely noticed that he nodded to Jenna. They clearly knew each other, since she said his name. Ethan? Brian? Didn’t matter. He was Mr. Irish to me.

Jenna must have noticed my glazed over expression because she just smiled and shook her head, then ordered beers for both of us. The bartender quickly filled two frosted mugs from the tap and set them down on the bar. Froth foamed over the side. He pulled out a towel and wiped the bar clean.

Should I be runnin’ a tab, m’ darlins’? he asked us.

Jenna reached for her purse, but I beat her to it. I pulled out my credit card and slid it across the bar. Be gentle with it.

Mr. Irish picked the card up and leaned back against the wall as he read my name. Zoe Wood, eh?

Mmm hmm.

Don’t worry about your card, love. I’ll take good care of it. He turned then looked back at me with a devilish smile. But I don’t plan to be gentle.

With one easy motion he flipped the towel so it draped over his shoulder, then walked away.

I leaned forward. Damn, what a view.

Jenna took a sip of her beer, turned to me and asked, So you’re from Macon?

Yep. I nodded, trying to turn my attention to Jenna. After all, I was here to get to know my neighbor, not pick up some random bartender. Lived there until three years ago.

Sister? Brother?

Just a brother. He made the move to Atlanta, too. I smiled. We both managed to escape.

Cool, said Jenna. I wish I my family was closer. All of mine is in Cleveland.

You’re a Yankee? I asked. Atlanta was filled with people from somewhere else, and many were from up north. Most migrations ended in metro Atlanta. Or they bypassed Georgia entirely and headed straight for Florida.

Jenna nodded. I’ve been down here long enough that I’ve adopted Southern ways. She smiled widely. I even say ‘y’all’ now.

It’s funny how that one little word seems to mean the South to anyone north of the Mason-Dixon Line. Most of us who say it don’t even think about it. It just makes sense.

How long have you lived in Atlanta? I asked.

I moved here four years ago, right after I graduated college. I got a great job offer with a consulting firm downtown.

What type of consulting?

Systems analysis. Mostly computers, but some companies need help with other types of systems.

Really? I tried to keep the surprise from my voice. Jenna was too much fun to be the analytical type.

Mr. Irish walked up holding a basket of peanuts. For you lovely ladies. He set it down then winked. Wouldn’t want y’ to be drinkin’ on an empty stomach.

I winked back. Nice of you to think of us.

Any time, he said with a slow smile. He turned to the freezer to retrieve a frosted mug and bent over, pulling his jeans tight over his ass.

Nice.

You’re drooling. Jenna